


Crazy Rich Spies

by cheddarthecorgi



Category: Crazy Rich Asians (2013), Crazy Rich Asians (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Bernard Tai dies, F/M, Michael Teo dies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-07-04 14:12:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15842943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheddarthecorgi/pseuds/cheddarthecorgi
Summary: When CIA agent Rachel ("I'm only tech support") Chu is assigned to co-work a case with MI6 field agent Nicholas Young, she envisions a straightforward operation followed by a couple vacation days in Singapore. But Nick and her superiors have failed to tell her a few things. One, the case involves his family. Specifically, the man they're bringing down is his cousin's husband, and their operation will take place during Nick's best friend's wedding... where he's the best man. Two, he's paying for first class plane tickets and five star hotels because his family is one of Singapore's richest. Three, she's not only his plus one; she's his pretend girlfriend, and there might be a diamond ring in their future.On Nick's arm, Rachel may as well have a target on her back, and not only because she's an intelligence agent. This case is an obstacle of social climbers, fortunes, hostile families, and the most volatile element in a mission... love.





	1. Rachel	|	JFK Airport, New York

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neverendingdream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverendingdream/gifts).



> There is a mix of book and movie canon. Several quotes are taken from both the book and the movie but are not noted.

**1 | Rachel | JFK Airport, New York**

“Excuse me, but are you sure a mistake hasn’t been made on my ticket?” Rachel asked, looking up from squinting at the words ‘First Class.’ The agency always booked business class tickets, and for non-field agents, they often eschewed this practice in favor of budget cuts. Rachel flew on ‘Economy’ more often than on ‘Business,’ and she’d never even seen the inside of the agency’s private jets.

“No mistake,” replied the counter girl as she slapped tags onto Rachel’s luggage before they were taken away by the man behind her. “Have a nice flight,” she added, smiling at Rachel, who eked out a thanks before retreating for the security line.

Rachel gaped in amazement at her pod, nearly squealing as she plopped down in her seat, hugging to her the pouch that had been on it. Of course, she’d always _seen_ the seats when exiting flights, but now she could finally close her eyes and enjoy it herself.

“Rachel Chu?” said a British accent, and she heard someone sit in the pod next to her.

Expecting the voice to belong to a white man, she was taken by surprise to discover the hottest Asian man she’d ever laid eyes on. “Umm…” she merely sounded initially before remembering she’d read this man’s profile just last night, “Henry Golding, yeah?”

“Nick Young, actually. You must be thinking about some other handsome man.” he said, smiling, as he stuck out his hand, winking at her. She wondered why he was using his real name, opposed to his most popular field alias. Likely, he didn’t want his cover blown in case he ran into friends or relatives. He’d been born in Singapore and often flew there to visit.

“I almost thought I’d miss the connection; the line in customs was longer than I thought it would be.”

“Welcome to JFK,” she said, laughing. Much louder than she should have.

He laughed too, seemingly unfazed. Or at least, he was a good enough actor—and agent—to appear that way. “How do you like your seat? I know you Americans tend to be cheap during non-emergencies.”

“Oh, did you arrange this? Thank you, I like it very much.” She bounced on her seat for proof and smiled. When she realized she was tilting her head, and her face muscles were stretched, she relaxed, not wanting the hunk next to her thinking her a serial killer—or worse, overeager.

“The company did actually, but if it makes it more likely for you to say yes to dinner after our business, I’m glad to take credit.”

Oh gosh, he was _flirting_ with her. She wanted her heart to stop beating and her hormones and nerves to simply exit her body. This couldn’t be real; he was likely an asshole or a player. Likely a player; most young field agents tended to be one. It was practically a requirement of the job.

Why did all of their innuendos—‘the agency,’ ‘the company,’ ‘business’—make their talk seem so dirty? They only spoke with such terms so others wouldn’t overhear them disclosing information regarding the CIA, MI6, and a highly secretive operation they were teaming up on in Singapore, all respective.

She was screwed.

She hoped she would be screwed. By him, Nick, charming hunk with a British accent. _Ugh._

“Perhaps you should,” she replied before realizing she had no idea what her statement implied. She’d never had much practice flirting. Dates with other Asians had been robotic to the point of stereotypical. How compatible were the two parties for marriage? Dates with non-Asians ended up being one night stands most of the time. Hell, even her dates had been scarce as her job required discretion and long hours, often in other countries.

He smiled again and said, “I’m simply so excited to meet you. You helped take down one of the biggest bride smuggling rings in Guangxi a few years ago.”

“Oh,” she said, blushing. “I didn’t do much, but thanks.”

“Nonsense,” he said. “You were taken as a hostage, but managed to steal their entire database before escaping. Utterly wild.”

She remembered that operation very well. Normally, the CIA didn’t involve itself in Chinese bride smuggling rings, but that particular ring had been kidnapping girls—rather than exploiting their poverty, which was _okay_ to the CIA—including American and other Western citizens—which was _really_ why it had gotten involved. The ring had been too large and too stupid.

“Thanks, but it isn’t like I was undercover for eight years in Malaysia and utterly ruined some of southeast Asia’s largest drug dealers.”

He shrugged. “It wasn’t as glamorous as it sounds. I just collected information and pushed some pins into their proper places. You, however, also helped topple a terrorist group in Manila.”

She replied, “It wasn’t as big as the one in the Lombardy you helped take down, though.”

Suddenly, he laughed. “This is all so confidential, and it’s a public plane.”

The blood drained from her face and rushed just as quickly back. _Crap_. She’d never slipped in public before. Nick made her forget herself. “Oh gosh,” she said aloud, cringing back into her little pod. She hadn’t even noticed that they had leaned closer and closer together until now.

“I think it’s okay,” he said, the laugh still in his smile. “We were whispering, and that’s all in the past anyway.”

As he pulled a magazine out of a pouch in front of him, he added, “Besides, we have a nineteen hour flight to eliminate any witnesses.”

Rachel smiled again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only direct flight from the east coast (of the US) to Singapore leaves from EWR, not JFK, but liberties were taken as this author wanted to emphasize how Rachel lives in New York, as opposed to New Jersey. Additionally, that flight (only run by Singapore Airlines), has been discontinued.


	2. Nick		|	Kingsford Hotel, Singapore

**2 | Nick | Kingsford Hotel, Singapore**

“They really went all out on this, huh!” Rachel said as he entered their suite. _They_ hadn’t paid anything in fact, but he wasn’t about to tell her he often paid for his own hotels, flights, et cetera et cetera—except, of course, in cases where operations required him to stay in moldy motels and such, but otherwise, why not enjoy luxurious travels?

He didn’t respond to her comment and instead only held up two plastic bags. “Hawker food, like I promised, including the _best_ satay you will ever try.” Despite that there was a kopitiam under the hotel, he’d driven to his favorite place for satay. Not that it wasn’t worth it to bring it back for Rachel. Or for himself.

Rachel stood and accepted a bag. “I don’t know; there’s a place in Brooklyn that makes a mean one.”

Nick was already pulling out a box of food. “If you don’t buy it in Singapore, it’s not real satay.”

“You were right,” Rachel moaned, later, when they both were lying on the couch, compelled there after wolfing down their satay too quickly. “It was amazing. I can’t eat satay anywhere else anymore.”

Nick smirked as he grabbed ahold of Rachel’s wiggling feet, pulled them up onto his abdomen, and began massaging the arches with his thumbs.

Noticing her closed eyes, Nick thought over the details of their mission.

One, he had to use his status as his best friend’s best man to turn his wedding into a sting operation. Two, he had to catch Michael Teo pass sensitive tech to Bernard Tai in exchange for cash. Three, Michael Teo was his favorite cousin Astrid’s husband, and he hadn’t told her he needed to be arrested. Four, he wasn’t certain Rachel was aware that they would have to pretend to be lovers. Or that five, he had an engagement ring in his pocket in case they needed to create a scene.

Although thinking about his beautiful pretend girlfriend was a very attractive option, he decided he needed more to focus on how—and _what_ —to tell Astrid.

One: _Hey, Astrid, your husband is successfully developing tech in collaboration with China, and that isn’t good because his distribution markets are Western. I might need to kill him._ Two: _Astrid, I’m sure your husband loves you, but he’s a really shitty person. Will I still be your favorite cousin if I arrest him?_

Then there was the important consideration that the operation was still ongoing, and therefore, extremely classified. Especially to Astrid, who might warn Michael—who _would_ warn him if she truly loved him. Because it was Astrid, and not even the CIA, MI6, Interpol, or even the United Nations International Court of Justice (not that they were involved in this) could tell _Astrid Leong_ what to do.

Three: _Astrid, I can’t tell you anything. Please forgive me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author is unaware of the true nature of secretive operations undertaken by the CIA and MI6 and has taken liberties.


	3. Rachel	|	Tyersall Park, Singapore

**3 | Rachel | Tyersall Park, Singapore**

“So your family is rich?” Rachel asked as Nick drove a white Tesla down a scenic road. She didn’t know much about Singapore, but she did know you had to be rich to own a large private plot full of trees, trees, and more trees. The tropical forest around them seemed potent with danger, mostly because it was dark, but also because Singapore wasn’t supposed to have forests.

“We’re comfortable,” Nick replied, not taking his eyes off the road. He seemed to make a whole body shrug as he spoke, as if he weren’t comfortable in this car on this land, with speak about his family’s wealth.

Rachel’s eyes widened. “That’s  _ exactly _ what a super rich person would say!” She turned to look out at the shadowed trees. She almost expect monkeys to jump out and attack the car. Monkeys wearing gold chains and sunglasses, throwing cash and swagger into the air.

“Why are you bringing me to visit your family, again?” He’d actually never told her. She didn’t know what he couldn’t simply visit them himself.

“One of our targets, Michael, is my cousin Astrid’s husband. They should be at the party.”

She slapped his arm. “What was that for?” he voiced, his pitch sharp with surprise and, she hoped, pain.

“You didn’t tell me that,” she hissed loudly. “I didn’t bring any equipment with me.”

“Oh please,” he said. “If you don’t have in your purse mics and gadgets you can insert in phones, I’ll  _ give _ you this Tesla. If you don’t have minicams or comm devices, I’ll give you a model of my phone.” She’d been eying it earlier.

She pursed her lips. “You only don’t have to buy me a phone because you said ‘minicams  _ or  _ comm devices.’ I don’t have minicams, but I totally  _ would _ have brought them if I’d known.”

Nick laughed. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Also, I told them you’re my girlfriend of a year.”

This time, when she hit his arm, he didn’t flinch.

They had timed their arrival so they would exit the car as soon as Astrid and Michael pulled up to the… Well, there wasn’t a curb, but rather a large brick driveway in front of a white palatial mansion. Another car parked behind them and out came a sublime woman with resemblance to Nick, dressed in the chicest outfit Rachel had ever seen.

She ran up to him and gave him a tight hug. Then she pulled away and chided, “It’s been years, Nicky. Where have you been?”

Either not waiting for an answer or not expecting one, she walked back to the car to fetch her son, passing her husband, who reached out his hand to Nick. They exchanged pleasant but murmured greetings. Rachel didn’t understand men.

“Michael Teo, meet Rachel Chu, my girlfriend. Rachel, Astrid’s husband.”

“Oh, have you met my wife before?” he asked indifferently. He didn’t move to shake Rachel’s hand.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to answer as Astrid came back, a sleepy toddler in her arms. The two wore matching outfits, his suit the same gray fabric as her slacks and the accent colors the same as her earrings. Meanwhile, Michael also wore a gray suit, but it was drabber and a different texture. His shirt was a deep maroon unlike his wife and son’s white ones.

“Let me take him for you, Astrid,” Nick said as he reached for the boy, who at first resisted, clinging to his mother, but ultimately relented.

“Thanks, Nicky.”

Nick was hot holding a kid. Rachel was glad the group went inside, not only because their awkwardness was palpable, but also because she didn’t want to suffer the consequences of looking at Nick for too long. Emotions were not ideal in the middle of an operation.

“What’s the plan?” she murmured to him.

“Find my grandmother, say hello, and then tend to other business.” It was normally rude to greet the grandmother before the mother, but Eleanor Young was in Shenzhen, shopping. Nick had informed her with chagrin that she was attempting to snub Rachel.

“Considering that you all are richer than God and can hop on a plane with a finger snap,” she had replied, “I think I got that.” Not that she cared.

Okay, she did care, because essentially Nick’s mother was telling her:  _ You are not worth him. You will never be enough. _ Even if she hadn’t wanted to date him in actuality, it still would have hurt.

They were all derailed by some of Nick’s relatives. He handed Astrid’s child, Cassian, to one of them and left the couple with the group. His hand on her back, they marched straight for a frail elderly woman flanked by two women in matching iridescent silk gowns.

Nick addressed her in Cantonese, which Rachel understood the gist of, though her Canto was quite elementary. “Ah Ma, I’d like you to meet my friend Rachel Chu, from America.”

Rachel smiled and said in Mandarin, “It is such a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for inviting me to your beautiful home.”

Nick’s grandmother ignored her but switched to Mandarin as she spoke to him. Rachel hoped it was progress… Before, of course, realizing that she did not need to impress his grandmother because they were not actually dating.

“Why are you two not staying at Tyersall Park? I’ve heard you’re in some hotel.”

He had explained to her earlier that bringing a girl to stay with his grandmother or parents would imply he was very serious about her. Although he was ready to propose to her at anytime, he wanted to avoid integrating Rachel into his family too much.

“Ah Ma, if you are inviting Rachel and I to stay with you, we graciously accept.”

“She seems nice,” was all she replied, the now-seemingly-serious couple seemingly dismissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monkeys can actually be found in Singapore and used to be found in the Singapore Botanical Gardens, which is where Tyersall Park is located. Unfortunately, the monkeys were removed (shot) because they became aggressive after excessive feeding by visitors.


	4. Astrid		|	Singapore

**4 | Astrid | Singapore**

After putting her son to bed, Astrid relished stepping out of her heels, unbuttoning her blouse,  _ taking off her bra _ . She was in her walk-in closet—one that could fit all of her clothes! Rather, all of her clothes from their old apartment where she had been forced to use a spare bedroom to store overflow garments. She still had clothes at her parents’ house which she didn’t have the heart to retrieve. Michael still felt so insecure about the time where he didn’t have the money to support her lifestyle.

Even now—though he had given her black credit cards and told her to spend as much as she wanted, to  _ only _ use  _ his _ money—she bought a few lower-priced dresses (in the single thousands) with his money and her high end ones (in the hundreds of thousands) with her own.

After putting her outfit away, she collapsed happily on the sofa inside her closet, thinking about how she would soon have to replace it with rolling racks.

This house made her so happy. She was happy for Michael, that he was as successful as he had wanted to be, but was she mostly happy that they had moved into an actual  _ house _ , the one her father had wanted built for them after their wedding. They had a yard for Cassian.

_ Ugh _ , that made it sound like he was a dog.  _ Hmm _ , maybe they should get a dog. Perhaps a nice black shiba. Not a bichon frise. They were too ugly. Not a corgi because they were popular,  _ and _ they were Western. She’d look like she was trying to whitewash herself.

No dogs, she decided. If she got a pet, it would have to be something exotic—but still legal. Astrid Leong didn’t break any law but those of fashion and the status quo. Scratch that. She made those laws.

She was just weighing the positives and negatives of acquiring a pet shark when Michael burst into her closet. She frowned. This was  _ her  _ space; he never came in here. The only one who came in here was Cassian, and only because she felt that she should never deny her son access to his mother.

“Astrid, how much money does all of this really cost?” he asked. No, demanded. His fists were clenched. He stood up straight, staring down at her. He reminded her of a boxer, ready to lunge.

“Sweetie,” she said, “you know I have expensive fashion tastes. I can always use my own bank accounts—”

“No,” he interrupted. “I mean, I was talking to some woman earlier, and she said your dresses cost as much as cars. I told you to use my credit cards. Why haven’t you been?” He shouted everything.

She sighed. Honesty was the best thing for them now. “I lied early on in our marriage about it, and I guess I was so used to telling that lie.”

He seemed to relax. Moving her legs, he sat down on the other side of the couch. “I want you to use my money now. I hate feeling like I can’t afford my own wife.”

Michael made Astrid sound like a possession.

“I’m sorry, Love. I’ll keep that in mind from here on out.”

He smiled. “Thanks, Astrid. Love you, you know.”

Before she could respond, however, he reached into his pocket and pulled out an unmarked package. “It’s from Stephen’s,” he told her.

Smiling at him, she opened in carefully, refusing to rip the paper. Perhaps an eternity passed for Michael, because he urged her to open it faster, to tear it apart. So she did.

In her hands was the gaudiest charm bracelet she had ever seen.  _ Aiyah _ , bracelets weren’t meant to be gaudy. Only necklaces and earrings could be, but never together, and only when paired with simple outfits. She knew that the next time she visited Stephen’s, he’d complain about her husband’s horrid taste—he only kept the stuff in stock because some women insisted on buying it, or perhaps for folly—but praise his bank account, perhaps.

Likely because he had picked the item with the largest price tag. The jewels on the thing were enormous and plentiful. It was what women desperate to show their wealth bought, not  _ Astrid Leong _ .

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“I love it,” she lied, thinking that someone who truly loved her perhaps would know her better, if not have the same tastes.


	5. Nick		|	Off the coast of Macau

**5 | Nick | Off the coast of Macau**

Nick rummaged through Bernard Tai’s pigsty of a room, snapping photos of cocaine bags. There were other drugs, but mainly cocaine.  _ Peruvian cocaine _ , Bernard liked to specify. Very loudly and very oftenly. Nick had recorded that.

If they couldn’t arrest him for sabotage, espionage, or illegal corroboration, at least they could get him for drugs. If they did it in Singapore, there were enough drugs for capital punishment, at which point they could negotiate with his father to bring down the entire tech operation. Or at the very least, get Bernard executed.

Honestly, he secretly preferred the latter.

“Shit,” he whispered when he couldn’t find a laptop, any electronic really, or even any incriminating papers. He knew Bernard had his cellphone with him too. He was taking selfies with the ice cream-covered vulvas of sex workers, the last time Nick had seen him.

“What are you looking for?”

Nick turned around. Mehmet.

“What are you looking for?” Nick asked in return before immediately regretting it. It was never good to act defensive. It meant you had something to hide.

“You aren’t the only one who can pick locks,” Mehmet replied, his hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed like always.

“Aren’t you religious? Don’t you have morals?”

Mehmet tilted his head and looked away pensively. “They are not the same thing, though I would describe myself as both religious and moral. I saw you come in here.”

“I need Bernard’s phone,” Nick blurted. He was already spinning a lie in his head that Bernard had photos of Rachel he shouldn’t have. Mehmet wouldn’t ask for specifics, but he made them up anyway: breast shots, a sex tape he stole from Nick.

Mehmet seemed to think some more before saying, “I don’t know why you want it, but I will help you get it. Knowing you, there is a good reason. Even if there wasn’t one, I would still help you.” He added uncharacteristically, “The bastard needs to get taken down.”

Oh, he didn’t know how true that was.

With Bernard distracted by Mehmet challenging him to a round of bowling (Bernard had originally claimed it a game for old white people until Mehmet had convinced him the game was an accurate predictor for sexual skill and agility.), Nick managed to steal both of Bernard’s phones: an iPhone and a Blackberry.

Using two USB-like gadgets (one with an iPhone charger bit and the other with a micro-USB bit) Rachel had given him, he copied the information from both phones, knowing the iPhone likely held nothing—except nudes and sex tapes, though not Rachel’s—and the Blackberry… well, everything.

Soon enough, the small LEDs on the ends of gadgets blinked and he removed them from the phones. He dropped the iPhone onto a nearby lawn chair and dropped the Blackberry into Bernard’s pocket when he walked up to him and patted his back so hard he threw his ball into the gutter.

“Fuck—” He exclaimed, turning around. “Aiyah, Nickyboy! What was that for? I was winning!”

The scoreboard revealed Mehmet had three spares and knocked down at least seven pins every frame. (They were on their fifth.) Bernard had an average of around five or six from what Nick mentally calculated. He had also heard Bernard insist in a very sharp shout at least twice that he had  _ not _ crossed the foul line.

“The match must end,” Mehmet said loudly. “Nick interfered, so we must throw the whole game. Perhaps we will play another time, Bernard.” Nick nearly laughed. He was exaggerating enormous formality. Bernard didn’t even notice Mehmet was poking fun at him, continuing to act as if the whole game as serious.

Bernard insisted Mehmet was a chicken, though this was half-hearted as he quickly acquiesced to Mehmet’s declaration and declared himself the winner by default as it had been Mehmet who had verbally ended the game.

Nick was headed towards the library when Rachel called him on his satellite phone.

“Rachel! I miss you so much! How are you enjoying New Zealand?” She was actually in northern China, following Michael Teo on his business dealings. They only had the New Zealand rouse because it was the only place reasonably close for which they could make an excuse for her to visit (His family believed she really enjoyed  _ The Lord of the Rings _ .) but was not a particularly popular destination for anyone in the Singaporean jet set.

“Nick,” she said, sounding miserably stressed. “I need your help.” She spoke in a very faint whisper.

He continued to smile, still walking—though now towards his room—but his insides clenched and he began to panic for her. He forced himself to take deep, steadying breaths.

What was it about Rachel that made him react like this? Other partners had been  _ dying _ in front of him, and he had kept himself collected, but one word from her and his heart started pattering like a rabbit’s foot.

“Stay calm, darling. You aren’t going to lose your job just because you took off a couple of weeks.”

“I was bugging the target’s flat when he returned home with a colleague, and now they’re eating, and I’m locked outside on the balcony, hiding behind a small plant.”

He waited until he was in his room, the door closed, to respond. “Do you think you’ll be compromised?”

“No,” she whispered, “but I’m so scared, Nick. I’m just tech support!”

He forced himself to ask the most important questions rather than attempting to comfort her immediately. “Do you have a fear of heights, claustrophobia?”

“No, it’s just the situation, I think.”

“That’s good that you’re analyzing your fears, Chu. Listen, you’re going to do fine. They’ll leave anytime, and you’ll go back inside, finish bugging the place, and leave undetected.”

He took a deep breath. “You’re doing great. I’m one hundred percent positive you will make this mission a success.”

It was an hour and a half before Michael and his colleague left, and Rachel was able to slip back inside. They talked the entire time; he talked about his time at Oxford, his time in the MI6; she talked about her family, her time at Stanford and in the CIA. She spoke to him with a Bluetooth piece in her ear, and by the time she was calm, and he had convinced her to go on an actual date with him.

“Only when this whole thing is over,” she’d said.

“But we’ll already be engaged by then!” he’d exclaimed, only half-kidding. He knew right then that she was  _ the one _ , and when he asked her, it wouldn’t (only) be for their mission.

They hung up, Rachel insisting she would be fine exiting the apartment on her own. He should have insisted they keep talking, because it wouldn’t be until half an hour later that he would call her back to ask her how she was.

She didn’t answer.


	6. Charlie	|	Northern China

**6 | Charlie | Northern China**

Charlie Wu squinted at the monstrosity in front of him. The small baby shark in his office wall aquarium had grown into a bigger shark. It was only now, of course, that he found out the trader had sent him a tiger shark instead of whatever pet-sized shark he had actually ordered.

The 24-foot fish needed a better home.

_Don’t think about her, don’t think about—_

It was too late. He was already thinking about her, about Astrid Leong. She would have loved a shark, loved coming home to see something as beautiful and dangerous a raw piece of nature as herself.

But she hadn’t loved coming home to him enough, so it was irrelevant and painful to think about it.

Behind him, the study door opened and his secretary of many talents said, “Here she is, boss.”

He turned and watched the man exit, leaving behind Rachel Chu, American spy and, according to the rumors of high Asian society, Astrid’s future cousin.

“Did they mistreat you?” he asked.

She raised her eyebrows as if to say, _That doesn’t speak well for the company you keep_. Instead, she said, “Does it matter to you?”

“I know you and Nick Young are spying on Michael Teo.”

“You’re Charlie Wu, right?” she responded instead. “Maybe you shouldn’t bring the people you kidnap to recognizable places.” All of his offices were in buildings he owned, buildings named to honor the Wu name.

“I want to help you,” he said. “I don’t think you found anything on the computers from his flat. I can give you incriminating files.”

“Why?”

“I could very easily lie.”

She sighed. “I read everything on Michael Teo and Astrid Leong’s files. I suspect I know what you’ll say.”

“Astrid deserves better.”

“Yes,” Rachel said. “She does.”

When he held out a silver flashdrive, she accepted it.

“It’s not a lot,” he said, almost apologetically, “but it’s incriminating.”

She didn’t respond, only pointed at the shark in its too-small tank. The shark barely had room to swim. It simply floated there. “By the way, that’s animal cruelty.”

Charlie regretted that he’d been too busy to come to this office often, too distracted to not realize the creature needed freedom.

There were a lot of things he had been too late to realize.


	7. Eleanor	|	Wesley Methodist Church, Singapore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive my *yikes* characterization of Eleanor. It's supposed to be a mix of book! and movie!Eleanor (although I doubt anyone could ever actually capture Michelle Yeoh as Eleanor in writing).

**7 | Eleanor | Wesley Methodist Church, Singapore**

Nicky was dating some American nobody, and Eleanor Young was not having it. Refusing to meet the girl, she’d spent weeks trying to uncover her past, and uncovered the girl’s past she had.

Now just to wreck the girl’s ambitions to save her son’s future. Eleanor could only pray that Nicky would see the girl for what she really was when she revealed her torrid past. She doubted Nicky knew of it, considering how her sister-in-laws were quite “happy” for Nick that he had found a nice girl, even if she was a bit crass. If they knew, they would have been “so sad” that Ah Ma would have to write him out of the Young inheritance.

She hoped the news of Nicky’s impending breakup crushed them. Everyone knew Alastair was good for nothing and Eddie cared more about money than family, even if he did have three boys. Nicky had no real competition for Ah Ma’s favor.

All Eleanor had to do to secure his inheritance was send the American packing, find Nicky a new girlfriend, and make certain they started popping out great-grandchildren for Ah Ma.

Eleanor frowned at the inside of the plain church, wondering why on earth Amarinta had not chosen Chijmes for her wedding locale. Perhaps the parents were being cheap, but that was unlikely considering the match was good. Amarinta and Colin came from the same culture, were of the same social status, and together had a net worth the size of Portugal’s GDP. (Unofficially, anyway.)

Nicky’s soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend had  _ no _ net worth.

She shuddered to think of it. Even  _ she _ had had a net worth when she had married Philip, no matter how modest it had been.

Slipping discreetly away from the conversing group she was in, she headed for the back rooms of the church. The American wasn’t in the nave yet, and she wanted to make certain the couple wasn’t engaged in tomfoolery in the house of God. Although she doubted Nicky would do such a thing (at his best friend’s wedding, anyway), she wouldn’t put it past the greedy American to sin in a church.

Although she wanted to tell Nicky right away what she had discovered, she knew it pertinent to wait until she could gather Nicky, the American, and Ah Ma in the same space. Nicky’s grandmother would help sway him where she, his mother, could not.

So lost in her thoughts, she blinked when she stumbled upon Bernard Tai and Alistair’s porn-star girlfriend fondling each other in a not-very-hidden corner. Schooling her features to appear affronted and righteous, she removed the issue of Kitty Pong from her mind. 

The couple separated and Kitty Pong gasped. “Oh, I didn’t see you there.” How on earth had she been cast in even a pornographic film? Not that Eleanor had ever watched one, but she hoped the actors in such films were better than the one before her.

“I’ll deal with you later,” Eleanor said, not in the mood to insist they marry or spread gossip that pressured Bernard to marry the girl. Perhaps Ms. Pong was a bad actress, but she seemed smart enough that she’d entrap the man quickly. At least it wasn’t Alistair she had her gold-digging eyes on now.

Four rooms, one fretting Colin Khoo, and one on-the-verge-of-tears Araminta Lee later, she at last stumbled upon her son and his girlfriend.

They were on the laptop, muttering quietly.

“What are the two of you doing?” she demanded. “Nicky, Colin is looking for you and Ms. Chu, the wedding starts in three minutes. The nave is filling up.” The nave was, in actuality, already full. Perhaps Ms. Chu would have to leave. What a shame.

They looked up, eyes wide. Nicky broke out of his trance first, exclaiming, “Mum! Where have you been off to? This is Rachel, my girlfriend.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said, but her eyes were on the laptop screen once more. Rude, impertinent girl.

Or, perhaps intimidated by Eleanor, but she figured the girl was distracted.

“What are you doing,” she repeated, “that you must endanger Mrs. Lee’s schedule?” Araminta’s mother acted as the bridezilla in place of her daughter. Everyone knew the couple would have been happier eloping. At least, Araminta would have been assuming the press still documented the wedding.

Nicky looked helpless, trying to come up with some excuse. Rachel, still looking at the laptop, said, “We’re googling ‘how to cover a waistcoat stain.’ Nick here tried to calm Colin with some wine. It didn’t go well.”

If Nicky hadn’t looked so relieved, she might have believed the girl.

At least they weren’t copulating like Ms. Pong and Bernard Tai.

Inwardly, she sighed. “Just go find Colin, Nicky.” She didn’t care what the American did. Hopefully, she’d steal a car and drive very far away, preferably into the ocean.


End file.
